


Our Story

by MicharkWaltGeorge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicharkWaltGeorge/pseuds/MicharkWaltGeorge
Summary: "You gonna be alright, Pretty-Boy?"I didn't mean for it to sound like I was flirting with him but his damn face heated up and his eyes went wide. That's when I knew he had me like no one else had me. I didn't know how to describe that feeling then. Hell, I don't know how to describe it now, but I know that it was the beginning of something I'll never forget; our story.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> sup pals and gals and people who say, "fuck gender."  
i hope you like my new story! im using it in my creative writing class.

What's left of the room lay in disarray and I can picture Brendon trying to clean it up; his boney fingers wrapped around a splinter filled broom. He'd smile a toothy grin and go about cleaning as if it wasn't a problem despite it being a mess bigger than his ego. 

I wish he was in this room now. This messy room with too much natural light and too many dark spots all at the same time. He'd comment on the graffiti and say something about it having a story and I'd laugh at him for thinking that. 

I used to come here when the bar was made of shiny marble and the walls were clean and smooth. The place would be covered with people, all too drunk to speak. Everything was always so fast and exciting. Now, the room is covered in a thick layer of dust and silence that I can't seem to wrap my head around. 

I can see the corner where I had my first real kiss. I think I saw white when it happened. I don't remember his name and I doubt he remembers mine. Besides, I think I gave him a fake name; told him my name was Andrew, if I remember correctly. I was far too embarrassed to kiss a man who actually knew who I was. I think I'd still be embarrassed now, if I'm being honest.

i can see the place where Niall would always be seen with a drink in hand. I want to say he was an alcoholic, but I just don't know. 

There's nothing left, but there used to be so much to see. So much life and vibrancy. So many different people. No one gave a shit if you were gay or partying harder than you should. They didn't care because they were high on life. High on the feeling of being unique. I remember it all too well; when a stranger would come in, making everyone around them feel like the world was only spinning for them. The man who managed to do that for me was, Harry Styles.

It started when we were just kids, boys trying to grow up too fast. We craved to become men. But we could barely drive and hadn't the faintest idea of how to pay taxes. The main thing we didn't know about growing up, was love. We didn't get it when we were younger; we thought girls were gross and this lasted until we were in high school. We stopped thinking about girls at all by that point. 

Despite Harry and I having very similar feelings towards girls and growing up, we didn't meet until he was fourteen and I was sixteen. He was new in school and everyone was treating him like a shiny new toy; he despised the attention. I felt bad for him at the time, but I think it's okay for me to laugh now. The way he looked when someone tried to talk to him—the thought alone makes my cheeks hurt! 

Anyway, we were young and didn't know shit about life and what it had to offer but that didn't stop the two of us from meeting. Our paths colliding while ditching gym. We were both hiding behind the school dumpsters, wearing matching shirts and shorts. He looked like he was about to be sick and I remember exactly what I said when I really looked at him for the first time.

"You gonna be alright, Pretty-Boy?" 

I didn't mean for it to sound like I was flirting with him but his damn face heated up and his eyes went wide. That's when I knew he had me like no one else had me. I didn't know how to describe that feeling then. Hell, I don't know how to describe it now, but I know that it was the beginning of something I'll never forget; our story.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello to the girls and gays only.

The year was 2008, I just figured out what the word, ‘gay’ meant and I wanted to cry tears of joy. I finally felt like I wasn’t alone. There were people who were just like me and I just had to find them. I wanted to scream at everyone who ever made me feel like a freak and say, “SEE?! I’M NOT ALONE.” 

I was 18-years-old and I was getting ready for school when Niall was telling me how his cousin was gay. I don’t even remember what I asked him, but I remember feeling my hands sweat and shake. He said something along the lines of, “it means you like men.” and, “it means you put bros before hoes but in a sexual sense.” 

I don’t know why I strived to be accepted. I feel like it’s what I needed at the time; someone to let me know that I wasn’t bad for being the way I was. Now, if someone told me I wasn’t accepted, I wouldn’t give a damn. I’d tell them to piss off and leave it at that. But then was a different time. I was a kid still. I was young and looking for someone to love me the way I loved them. 

I was smart enough to know that being gay was something that I shouldn’t flaunt around unless I wanted to get my ass kicked. The thing is, I wasn’t that big of a guy then; I was short and curvy --some people thought it was cute but it was annoying as hell-- I wasn’t about to go and pick a fight with half of the school because they saw me as a weirdo. So, I stayed quiet about things like that. I was a loud and outgoing kid, but I would never be one to bring up controversial topics. And for some reason, my rights were a controversial topic. 

Anyway, Niall and I rode our bikes to school that day with bags on our backs and under our eyes. We were tired of doing the same thing every day. It was that point in the year when I decided to start cutting gym; I still had an A in that class, so It didn’t matter. 

I couldn’t tell you about any of my other classes; I don’t remember them. I was too infatuated with this cutie I'd met while skipping gym. We were both sat behind the dumpsters with sweat slicked faces and that’s where I met him: Harry. 

“You gonna be alright, Pretty-Boy?” 

He looked at me with bitten lips and hooded eyes 

“I’ll be fine.” 

God, he was so beautiful then; he had baby fat resting on his cheeks and flushed nose. I wasn’t in love with him yet. I wasn’t in love with him until much later. I wanted him though. Bad. 

I sat down next to him while he took deep breathes. His eyes were closed while he started to talk to me. “So, what’s your name handsome?” 

He was sly, even then. 

“Louis. You?” my voice had a slight edge to it that he loved. 

“Harry. Harry Styles.” I'll never figure out why he introduced himself like he was James Bond, but it was cute, so it doesn’t matter. 

“Well, Harry Styles, what brings you to this humbling place of trash?” 

I was trying to be smooth. I think it worked pretty well in the end. 

“I hate gym.” he smiled a big toothy grin and added, “And I saw you come here yesterday and wanted to see what you were doing.” 

“Well, I don’t really like gym either, I guess.” 

I was a pretty fit kid. I liked running and playing sports, I just hated gym because it forced me to do it for a grade and I simply couldn’t get behind that. 

Our conversation was a bit forced in the beginning; we didn’t know what to say and we didn’t want to scare the other one off. 

It was two months into our friendship when we had our first kiss. We were in my bedroom and he was judging me for having spaceship comforters. I just decided to ask him, “Have you ever kissed a boy before?” 

I already knew the answer; our school wasn’t quiet about the boy who kissed the captain of the football team. I wanted him to kiss me then and hold me close to his chest like he was scared he’d lose me. He knew that already though. 

Our kiss was just a peck, a quick lock of lips. 

He didn’t try anything after that. Everything went back to normal and I hated it then as I hate it now. I still don’t know why he didn’t fight for me, pine after me in some way. I wanted him to. I wanted him to want me. 

But you simply can’t make someone want you. 

We were just friends, and friends talked about who they wanted: whose skin we wanted to trace patterns on when we woke up. We never did phrase it like that. That would have been too much; too much for us to confess as friends. We worded it in a way that made it sound like we just wanted to sleep with the person, but we looked away from each other, for we both knew who the person really was. 

We were quiet; an unspoken tension—non-erotic, unfortunately—filled the foot between us with a retched stench that, eventually split us apart. 

It hurt to see him fall in love with boy after boy, each one turning into a man by the minute. I didn’t just watch him make good men fall from grace: I watched the way his heart would fall apart like wilting lilies when the fall came, and they were there no longer. 

Damn, it was poetic thinking of him; I wonder if he ever thought about me.


	3. chapter 4

I lied on his stink stained couch and let the tears well up In my eyes. I was ashamed to cry. I remember how much I hated myself for wanting to let it out, for wanting to cry. It was so stupid of me to bottle everything up and I see that now. But I didn't see it then. All I saw when I cried was a weak man.

Of course, in my state on emotional distress, Niall came into the living room. He must've been able to tell that I was trying not to cry because he came over to the couch and held me close to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and it calmed me down. I tried to keep my breathing in tune with it. For the time being, it was nice and it was what I needed. Everything that Niall was, was what I needed, and, in that moment, it confused me. I confused my love for him as lust and sexual want. And, being the horny teen I was, I tried to kiss him.

I was pissed off and hurt when he pushed me away. Obviously, I understand why he did it now, but I didn't then. I didn't understand and I started to cry harder and he started to panic and hold me tighter.

God, I can't believe I put some poor kid through that!

Well, I woke up in his arms at roughly ten o'clock and he was still asleep. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. I didn't want to kiss him anymore but now I was embarrassed that I even tried in the first place.

I unwrapped myself from him and walked out the front door with my backpack hanging off one shoulder.

Niall's always been a heavy sleeper, so I wasn't too worried about him waking up until it was time for his shift to start.

I walked down the road and I started heading home.

I didn't want to be a part of this world the night before but now I could at least stand the idea of it.

Now, that's the beginning of our story but I didn't run into Harry again until later in life, around my mid-twenties. Harry had lived a life while he was away from me; he went to parties and did all sorts of men.

He fell in love with a new man every night. I remember when he told me that and all I could think was, 'I wish I was those men.'

It was around six-years later when we met again. We met in a nice new gay bar and I was going by a name I can't remember, just in case.

I was shoving my tongue in this young-man's mouth while he felt up my ass and my legs. I pulled away for breath. And that's when I saw him. Harry. I saw him and he saw me.

I hate myself for it now but I ignored him when I first saw him, I went back to my boy-toy and felt myself slowly forget about Harry. But he was still in the back of my mind, he always was.

I danced with the man until my body hurt and when that happened, I went to the bar.

Harry was there too. It felt like he was surrounding me, suffocating me.

"Hey, Lou." Harry really had the audacity to talk to me like we were still friends. "I never took this as your type of scene." I remember wanting to punch him in his fucking face for saying something so stupid; for thinking that he knew me.

"What's my type of scene then?"

He shot me a sad smile. "I always thought that you'd marry a nice girl and get a house with a white picket fence."

And that's when it occurred to me, I'd never told Harry that I was gay-- I just expected him to know.

But I was still bitter and so was my reply. "Well, we're not all what we seem."

I think that's when he caught on that I was deliberately being distant and rude.

"What did I do to you? Why are you acting like I was nothing to you?"

That's when I lost it.

"Harry, you were everything to me and you took me for granted and left." before he can say anything, I go on, "you left me alone with a bunch of straight people that were uncomfortable by my mere existence. Do you have any idea how much resentment that caused? Only two people knew I was gay and one of them stopped talking to me because of it. Harry, you just don't understand because you were the gay that people liked. I had to hide who I was for my own safety. That's what you did to me; you left me alone and scared because you wanted to chase your dreams." I'm out of breath now and harry is staring at me as if I'd insulted his mother

"Fuck you, Louis." I send him a smile and start to chug down my drink. "How dare you think that I left you, I left to better myself and if you can't see that then fuck you." He's in my space now, breathing heavily. I focused on his lips. I still wanted his lips, even if I hated him. Wanted his lips all over my body and no one else's.

He must've noticed my staring because he started to smile and move in closer towards my ear, "You don't hate me, do you?"

No, I didn't. I could never hate him, even then. But I wish I did. I wish I hated him.


End file.
